


Two Roads Diverged

by urbanconstellations



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: :), Enemies to Lovers, Frottage, Hate Sex, I wrote this at 3 am in a half hour not beta'd bc we die like men, Light Smut, M/M, Sort Of, Steve is an Asshole, bucky is angry, petty pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 18:18:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15297276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanconstellations/pseuds/urbanconstellations
Summary: Fuck Steve Rogers.Everything was calm in Bucky's life until Steve moved next door. Now they have to share a driveway and Steve really doesn't know how.Cue petty pranks and eventual almost-resolutions.It's a good time.





	Two Roads Diverged

**Author's Note:**

> ;)))))

_Fuck_ Steve Rogers. Bucky had absolutely had it. Living next to the most spine twisting,  annoying son-of- a-bitch was one thing. But blocking _Bucky’s_ parking space? It was personal now, and Bucky was out for blood. He had moved to the neighborhood two years ago fresh off an honorable discharge from the army and ready to start living life again. He’d chosen the cozy little house based off of its proximity to exactly no one, and the potentially shared driveway knocked down the price a little more. It was perfect and the house next door stayed empty for a year and a half, and Bucky’s driveway remained his until one fateful day when Steve Rogers moved in and Bucky became sure God really was a vengeful fucker. Steve seemed nice at first, all big smiles and pretty eyes until around two weeks into his stay. Then shit got ugly.

Steve had parked his big, ugly, obnoxious truck on Bucky’s side of the now shared asphalt path. _Bucky’s side._ Bucky had kindly left him a little note on the big ugly windshield asking him not to do it ever again. He then became pretty sure Steve’s good looks only went so far because his dumb ass did it again two days later. Steve looked him in the eyes as he got out of the truck and gave a little wave as he passed. Bucky declared war the second Rogers disappeared through his front door.

Now, Steve had not only parked on the wrong side of the driveway, but had _completely_ blocked Bucky’s own space. So Bucky did the only logical thing he could think of, and reversed his own car onto Steve’s front lawn, parking it front and center. At the sound of Bucky’s car, Steve poked his head out of the front door, brows furrowed at the sight before him.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, sweet as sugar, “My space was taken.”

Steve huffed a laugh and shut the door again as Bucky’s jaw ticked in defiance. _Fucker._

_-_

The next morning Bucky woke up early to the sound of Steve’s big ugly, disgustingly _loud_  truck revving up at five in the morning. Bucky threw back the sheets and launched himself  towards the window, yanking it open.

“Shut the fuck up!” Bucky screamed, hoping Steve’s car would stall on him.

For all his luck Steve just cackled and sped off, Bucky’s last few hours of sleep be damned.

It was then Bucky next attempted to take matters into his own hands. He schlepped into the garage, now fully awake from his rage. He sorted violently through the various boxes, not pausing until he found the one he was looking for. Sidewalk chalk.

When Steve came home there was a neat, neon yellow line dividing the driveway into two. Steve parked right on top of it. The next day the line was in paint and Steve drove through it, still wet, and left tire marks right up to Bucky’s front path. Bucky was on a mission to kill, now.

He marched up to Steve’s front door and slammed his fist into it, not even bothering with the bell. Rogers opened it almost immediately, leaving Bucky’s fist about to collide with his face. Steve seemed nonplussed, like Bucky was just a pizza guy and Steve wasn’t even that hungry.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem Rogers?” Bucky hissed.

Steve, the bastard, just cocked his head and smirked.

“I have no idea what you mean, Bucky.”

“The hell you do! You can’t stay on your own fucking side of the driveway, and now there’s _paint_ on my front lawn, you prick.”

Steve was putting up a good front of  trying to hold in his laughter, and it just made Bucky seeth even more. He was at a loss for what to do, though, so he turned and left Steve standing there. Fuck that conversation. Winner takes all, now.  

-

The next morning Bucky was ready. He waited for the beep of the truck unlocking before he took off into a sprint outside. He made it just as Steve unlocked the car, and slid the key into the ignition, ready to rev the engine until Bucky yelled at him again.

“Don’t you fucking do it, Steve!” Bucky warned.

Steve raised a brow and reached for the key slowly, drawing out the moment. Bucky, ever the forward thinker lunged for him, knocking them both across the front seats, Steve pinned underneath Bucky’s hold. The shit had the nerve to _grin_ at him, and Bucky had the urge to knock the perfect teeth out of his head.

With his mouth.

Bucky’s mouth on Steve’s because his neighbor was devastatingly pretty and all that frustration had to come out somewhere, right? Steve seemed to be right along with the program as he leaned up to smash his lips into Bucky’s, all tongues and teeth as they each wrestled for the lead. Bucky figured he was already ahead, being on top, and used his leverage to tilt back the fair arch of Steve’s neck. Bucky sucked and bit across it, and hoped he’d leave a mark to remind Steve who he was fucking with (ha).

Steve groaned softly, and Bucky had to laugh. This was ridiculous and _insane_ and fucking wonderful.

“Shut _up.”_ Steve ground out as he grabbed a handful of Bucky’s hair, finally coaxing a moan out of him.

“You first, dick.” Bucky grunted.

Steve’s smirk returned in full force while he ground his hips up into Bucky’s. Bucky felt his adversaries’ hard length slide against his own as they tangled on the leather seats. Steve groped a handful of Bucky’s ass before he used the grip to pull Bucky’s hips down harder, matching his kisses to the rutting of their hips. Bucky whined high in his throat when they began to rock together, slow and agonizing and hot.  

The rhythm continued for hours or minutes or years Bucky couldn’t tell, and then suddenly he gritted out Steve’s name and was coming, breath mixing with his mortal enemies’ and eyes fluttered shut. Steve came with a gasp a minute later and they rode it out together, quietly gasping in the space between them. It took a moment for the whole ordeal to register with Bucky, and then he was internally screaming as shrill and hard as he could.

He had just (almost) had sex with Steve in Steve’s big ugly loud truck. The _truck_ of all places. Bucky knew for sure right then that God hated him and Bucky couldn't even begin to wonder why because dumb ugly (distressingly hot) Steve was touching him still. Bucky pushed himself up onto his hands and peered down at Steve. His lips were shiny and swollen and Bucky felt a swell of pride at the sight.

_Finally shut you up now, huh?_

Steve gazed back, sated, and for once, there wasn’t a glint of mischief in his eyes. Bucky kind of loved that.

 _Gross. This is dumb Steve_.

_This is...hot Steve._

_Fuck._

Bucky rolled his eyes and slid backwards out of the truck and into the crisp morning air. Newly (not really new) hot Steve sat up behind him and considered Bucky silently.

“You should come over sometime. See if I can get you to yell at me a few other ways.” Steve said, voice saturated in honey.

Bucky wanted to say yes. He wanted to run back and melt and kiss Steve all day and probably night and fuck him in his big ugly truck, too.

“I hate you.” Was what came out. “And your ugly truck. And that leather jacket too, why the fuck is it so tight?”

Steve broke into a grin. So yeah. Maybe Bucky _had_ said yes in his own way, and Steve knew it, too.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve winked.

Bucky scoffed and went back inside, though for the first time in a long time, he didn’t slam the door.

The next morning Steve’s truck was on the right side of the driveway and Bucky took his morning coffee out onto it and sat, enjoying the asphalt that was rightfully his. Fuck Steve.

_Fuck Steve._


End file.
